


Leather & Lace

by normanfrockwell



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Bad Boy Richie Tozier, Bottom Bill Denbrough, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Dirty Talk, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Slow Burn, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/normanfrockwell/pseuds/normanfrockwell
Summary: Senior year at Derry High and Richie and Eddie are fighting.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76





	1. missing u

Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier were fighting. Not that this was new to them, during the cursed summer of ’89, they always had little spats at the clubhouse about who got to use the hammock or arguments at the Quarry about which loogey was bigger. As the years went on, and the Losers got older, the two best friends would fall into a semi-frequent routine of Eddie getting mad at Richie for some minuscule reason, and Richie grovelling at his feet for forgiveness. In fact, it was common for Eddie to be mad at Richie for something. He pretty much lived in a constant state of being mad at Richie Tozier. But there was always a glint in his eye when he told Richie off for making crass jokes about his Mommy. The corners of his mouth would curve ever so slightly into a smirk when he rebutted,

“Don’t call me Eds.”

And Richie always noticed. He lived for those moments of disguised affection. The telltale signs that told him that they were good. A little dysfunctional, but good. Now, years later, the Losers are entering their final year at Derry High, and things are not good. Richie hadn’t seen or spoken to Eddie for two full weeks and was beginning to tear his hair out at the thought of it. Eddie knows that the easiest way to get to Richie is to ignore him completely. Whenever Eddie didn’t react to Richie’s persistent teasing, he knew that there was trouble in paradise, that he did something wrong. Usually, it would take less than a day for Richie to pull Eddie aside and beg for forgiveness, even if he had no idea what the issue was. But this time, Richie has no intention of apologizing. Just like Eddie has no intention of reaching out to him. They were at a stalemate, and Richie was beginning to lose his mind.

He’s always been told that he’s an attention seeker. What his teachers and parents don’t know is that the only attention he needs is from his fanny pack-sporting, pocket-sized best friend. Richie has known since the moment he set his broken arm at the house on Neibolt Street many summers ago that he was in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. He loves how small Eddie is, and how he can pick him up and carry him with ease. He loves his sharp wit, and how passionate he gets when arguing. He loves how Eddie is always looking out for his physical health, patching up his scrapes and making sure he washes his hands for 20 seconds. He loves how cute his freckled face is, and how he’s even cuter when he’s mouthing off at Richie and hurling profane insults. Selfishly, he loves how Eddie always calls Richie first, out of all the Losers to see if he’s free to hang out. Shamefully, he loves how soft Eddie gets when they’re lying in the hammock or cuddling on Bill’s couch, and Eddie sinks into his larger body. Richie’s spent countless nights thinking of his brown doe eyes as he comes into his fist, wishing he could bury his face into his neck so deep he could smell his strawberry scented shampoo. He loves everything about Eddie. 

But, two weeks ago, on a scorching mid-August summer afternoon, the Losers met up, as they usually did, at the clubhouse. It was a day like any other; Richie was in the hammock reading comics, Stan was showing Bill and Mike his latest additions to his bird-watching scrapbook, and Bev was smoking a cigarette and giving Ben a shoulder massage. All was well. Until the trapdoor was suddenly torn open, washing the Losers in light and temporarily blinding them as two faint silhouettes dropped down onto the dirt floor. 

“Jesus, Eds shut the door already!” Richie cried, although he was the furthest from the trapdoor and the least affected by the intense light pouring in. The trapdoor fell shut, and as the Loser’s eyes adjusted to their surroundings, they noticed that Eddie had brought an outsider with him. Yes, they still called themselves Losers, but the truth was that they all had grown into their skins these past years of high school. Stan had a massive growth spurt and although he was still more reserved, he was well respected around school. Ben had joined the track team to impress Bev and to prove his asshole coach wrong in the process, and his baby fat soon turned to lean muscle. Speaking of Bev, although she had a reputation for being the only girl in a group of boys, her down-to-earth, bubbly personality made her quite popular, and she was adored by her teachers and peers. Mike was the star quarterback of the Derry High football team, which speaks for itself. Bill hadn’t changed much, still the gangly kid with the stutter (which was slowly improving thank you very much), but he was quite the ladies man, much to Stan’s displeasure. Stanley Uris has been hardcore crushing on his best friend for a while now, and it kills him a little every time he sees Bill enter the cafeteria with a group of girls hanging off his arm. Richie became the resident bad boy student; picking fights with teachers, skipping class to go smoke under the bleachers, and generally behaving like a douchebag, which must have its allure, as he was another favourite of the ladies. Finally, there’s Eddie. Eddie has yet to hit a growth spurt like Stan, and has given up hope for ever having one. He joined the track team with Ben to spite his mother, and found out he is a really talented sprinter. Last year, Eddie came out to the Losers, which was a surprise to nobody except Richie, who was absolutely thrilled. Although he has started to come out of his shell at school, his unapproachable attitude (or in plainer terms, his resting bitch face) keeps him at a healthy distance from others. And Richie wouldn’t have it any other way.  
Even though the Losers found themselves different friends with their newfound popularity, nobody had ever stepped foot in the clubhouse but the original seven. Not even Bill’s (short-lived) girlfriend, Audra, from 10th grade. But here was Eddie in his faded X-Men graphic tee and red track shorts, and here was this guy. He was tall and muscular, like Ben, and was sporting a white crewneck t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. His brown hair was perfect and quaffed and his skin was unblemished and tanned. Richie recognized him instantly. His name is Kyle Linden. He knows this because he’s seen him snooping around Eddie for about a year now, and every time he sees them together he wants to take one of his cigarettes, light it, and stick it right into the fucking moron’s forehead, see if he’ll get the picture then that Eddie Kaspbrak is taken. He hasn’t done this yet, but when he stepped foot into the Loser’s clubhouse, Richie was fucking tempted. 

“Hey guys, you all know Kyle right?” A few ‘uh huhs’ and ‘yeahs’ reverberate around the space, leaving an uncomfortable silence in their wake as Eddie begins to nervously dig his foot into the dirt floor. 

“Well… I told him he could come hang today… is that okay?” Eddie’s becoming visibly worried at the lack of a warm welcome from his friends.

“No problem, Eddie. Hey Kyle!” Stan answers, taking a few seconds to smile at the intruder before turning his attention back to his bird book.

“Hey Kyle, are you going to the practice this Friday? We’re all going to watch Mike and I know you play wide receiver,” Ben asks politely from the loveseat in the far corner. Bev is still smoking like a chimney and has given up massaging her boyfriend for playing with his hair instead as she sticks herself to his side. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there for sure!” Kyle responds, then turning to Mike who has abandoned Stan and Bill to go greet his teammate in the middle of the room to ask, “Hey man, you excited or what?” 

“Hell no, Coach is gonna crack down on all of our asses now that Hebert’s graduated… he was our best player-” Mike continues talking about football but all sound begins to drown out as Richie catches Kyle’s hands creeping down to rest on Eddie’s waist. All Richie can hear is his booming heartbeat. He desperately searches the clubhouse to assure himself that everyone else is just as outraged as he is, but everyone is back to their business! Stan’s nose is still stuck deep in his scrapbook and has Bill enraptured in whatever big-titted bird he saw in the park, and Ben and Bev are back to their blatant disregard for PDA as they cuddle and make out in front of a total fucking stranger. _How is nobody outraged?_

“Hey Eds, you know you could’ve asked us before dragging a stranger along.” Richie spits out. Suddenly all eyes are on him, and Eddie’s face begins to scrunch up all adorably.

“Don’t fucking call me Eds, Richie. And I don’t need your permission to bring a friend to a communal space. If it's such a problem for you then leave,” Eddie scoffs, his arms crossed in frustration.

“It’s not a communal space.”

“Yes it is, it’s shared by all of us, you fucking dweeb.”

“Exactly, it’s shared by us, the Losers. It’s not a communal space, it’s OUR space. Forgive me for being under the impression that this place actually meant something to you, because it means a lot to all of us. Its hallowed fucking grounds, _Eds_ , and I doubt this walking, talking sausage could ever comprehend all of the shit we’ve been through.” 

Richie rises out of the hammock and throws down his comic to punctuate the name ‘Eds’, and now Eddie’s lip is quivering, which means that Richie has really pissed him off. But before Eddie can speak, the mound of ground beef with eyes and lips steps in between them with his hands raised in a placating gesture. 

“Hey, Richie, I’m sorry, I honestly thought it wouldn’t be an issue, I can totally leave if you’re not cool with me being here man,” Kyle says. Richie notices he speaks very slowly, almost as if he has to sound out each syllable before saying it. 

“K-Kyle, you d-don’t have to leave. R-Richie’s just an ass-h-hole, we d-don’t have an i-issue with you,” Bill chimes in from behind Richie. 

“Hey now, I got a reputation to uphold Billiam. I mean, obviously, Kyle doesn’t realize who he’s dealing with. You don’t remember the time I got suspended for punching Jacob Johnson during P.E.? Knocked out three of his teeth. Wanna re-enact that big boy? Or how about you pretend to be Victor Criss and I’ll show you which of his fingers I broke last summer.” Richie watches Kyle goes rigid as he is reminded of exactly who he’s dealing with. Beyond Richie’s reputation of a douchebag stoner, he has had several run-ins with the law due to violent conduct on and off school property. The Losers knew he was troubled, but they stood by him. They were all troubled after the summer of ’89. They knew Richie wasn’t an inherently bad person, but he had some issues he needed to work out, and they loved him dearly. They all had a bond that could never be broken. Most of the time when Richie made threats, they knew he was posturing, but judging by the looks on Eddie’s face and the way Bev immediately shot up off the couch to separate the two, they knew Richie meant every word. 

“Are you fucking insane, man? Seriously this guy is fucked in the head!” Kyle starts yelling, as Bev grabs his arm and yanks him towards the ladder, saying,  
“Kyle you need to go, we’ll handle him. Eddie you too.” 

“No. Eddie stays,” Richie demands, finally making eye contact with his best friend. Kyle was behind him being rushed up the ladder and out the trapdoor in record time, Bev close behind. Mike and Ben filed out after them, eager to escape the hostile atmosphere. But all Richie can focus on is the look on Eddie’s face. Pure, unadulterated rage. 

“ _Fuck. You. Richie._ ” 

“Eds, what the fuck were you thinking bringing that cock sucker here?”

“Richie! He’s not a fucking cock sucker! He’s my friend, and stop treating me like I’m the crazy one here when you’re the one threatening someone for no goddamn reason!”

“Sorry, did you not notice his slimy hands on your waist or were you too wrapped up in your little daydream of having him fuck you down here after we all left? The way he twinkles his toes makes me think he’s more of a bottom than you, princess, and that’s saying something.”

“Oh my God, what the fuck Richie? Someone finally shows the slightest interest in me and you’re acting as if I’m committing a capital crime for wanting a fucking boyfriend! Why does it matter to you if I want to fuck him? I don’t threaten to maim every girl you fuck under the bleachers or finger in the back of your truck, so why is it that you can’t act like a fucking human when I get some action?” Eddie’s speaking a mile a minute now, and Richie is started to turn red with anger, especially because Bill and Stan are still behind him. Not one to perform in front of a free audience, Richie whips around to see the two staring with wide eyes,

“Can you guys give Eds and I a quick minute, we’re having a lovers spat, kind of private actually,” he says in his calmest voice, which cracks only a little bit.

“Um, Richie I don’t think we should leave you alone with Eddie right now… you’re kind of scaring us,” Stan confesses, stepping closer to Bill’s side, who had a steely look in his eye as he nodded his head in agreement. 

“You guys don’t think I’m gonna fucking hurt him do you?” Richie asks, bewildered by his friends. He’s not the crazy one, he’s not in the wrong here. 

“It’s fine Stan. You guys can stay because I’m fucking leaving. And I’m going to spend my week with Kyle and maybe I’ll see you guys at the practice on Friday, but guess what Richie, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of Kyle from here on out and you better get fucking used to it, because I like him a lot, and you know what’s funny? He likes me. So suck a fat one, Richard.” Eddie rattles off, finishing his monologue with a quick middle finger and an even quicker climb up the ladder to exit the clubhouse, and Richie’s life for the next two weeks. He knows he should apologize, he realizes it as soon as he leaves, but he can’t help but feel that he was defending Eddie’s honour in some way. He knows guys like Kyle only want one thing from him, and he can’t stand the thought of Eddie giving up his virginity to some jock who’s gonna leave him when he gets bored. 

Richie wanted to ring Eddie up the next day after Stan had told him that Eddie wasn’t talking to him either, but he didn’t. Stan was Richie’s confidante when Eddie wasn’t around, so he figured Eddie would want to avoid talking to him for a bit too. Bill told him that when he asked Eddie about their fight, he got an earful of how Richie is an asshole and a hypocrite. Then Bev told him pretty much the same. Safe to say that they needed some space. But Richie doesn’t handle space from Eddie very well, and the two weeks leading up to the first day of school were the worst days of his life (clown-killing days included). He couldn’t even jerk off like he would every night, because his mind would drift to all things Eddie, which normally was a driving force behind his orgasm, but now was a real boner killer. Even the football practice, where Richie was sure he’d see Eds rooting for his new boyfriend was Eddie-less. Kyle was there of course and kept eyeing Richie suspiciously from the field. _Good_ , Richie thought, _he should be fucking scared of me_. 

Flashforwards to the present day, Richie’s reclined in his beat-up red Chevy truck in the school parking lot. It’s a hot day today, so Richie has discarded his trademark leather jacket and is sitting plainly in his baggy white t-shirt and ripped black jeans. His window is rolled down to let out the smoke from his cigarette as he takes a slow drag and savours the rough flavour. He has his favourite death metal band playing at near top volume, and freshmen and seniors alike are glaring at him as they pass by the front of his truck. One girl, in particular, scoffs and makes direct eye contact before giving an exaggerated eye roll.

“Aw don’t be like that sweetcakes, you can hop in if you want! You look like you’re dying for a ride with the Trashmouth!” he shouts, watching the buttoned-up girl, probably a Christian due to the cross hanging from her neck, flush red and quicken her step. 

“You’re so fucking creepy, remind me why we’re friends again?” sounds from outside his open window. Richie turns to see his favourite female Loser, Beverly Marsh, cigarette in mouth, and sporting a flowy sundress with a bright yellow sunflower pattern and her favourite pair of men’s brown boots. 

“Ah! Miss Marsh, I do believe been waiting for your sorry ass for hours upon hours! On my lonesome with nobody but my right hand to accompany me. I was starting to think that maybe ole Penny had-”

“Beep beep, Richie” Bev chimed in with a dark look in her eye. None of the Losers liked bringing up the sore subject of the clown, but Bev was the one who hated it the most, and Richie immediately kicked himself for letting that slip. 

“Anyways,” he starts to change the topic as he turns the rattling truck off and hops out of the vehicle to meet his friend, “I for one cannot wait to start our final year at this fine institution of modern education.”

“Right… and you’re sure you’re not just excited because now Eddie won’t have a reason to avoid you?” And she was dead on, as usual. Slotting his gangly arm into hers, the two begin to walk together towards the entrance of Derry High, following the small crowd of students, cigarettes now discarded on the sidewalk. 

“We should have another movie night this week. Ben was saying that his mom’s going to visit his aunt up in Bangor for the weekend, so we’d have his house to ourselves,” Bev says as they reach the steps leading to the main entrance of the school. 

“Surprised you don’t want to take advantage of that Miss Marsh. Didn’t think you’d be the one to turn down some uninterrupted Benny action for two days straight?” Richie has to yell now over the hustle and bustle of students in the hallway, lockers slamming and laughter roaring. 

“Oh, we have scheduled lots of one-on-one time, believe me, Trashmouth. But, it's been two weeks since we all met up and I’m starting to miss you guys, even you Richie Rich.” 

Richie smiles at that, and promises Bev he’ll be there as they go their separate ways. Richie has to go upstairs for his Calculus and Vectors course. As he enters the classroom he realizes he forgot his backpack in his truck… but it’s the first day of school, what work could they possibly be doing? 

Turns out, they’re doing a lot of work on the first day, as Richie is sent to fetch his bag with a swift reprimand from their teacher Ms. Martin. He hears Stan giggle from behind as he slowly rises to stalk out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. I think I may just take my time, he says to himself as he wanders the empty hallways. He peers into the Creative Writing classroom on his way to the parking lot, stopping to make faces at Bill from the window before Mr. Epping stormed over to tell him off. He idly wonders what class Eddie has right now, and not so idly begins peering into every classroom window he passes. Alas, he has no such luck. Until, however, Richie turns the corner and finds himself directly colliding with a lightning-fast object. Two loud _oofs_ are echoed down the hallway, and Richie can see a flurry of loose paper cascading through the air as two hard bodies hit the linoleum. 

“Shit, dude are you being chased by a fucking axe murderer because there is no reason for you to be going that fast,” Richie is prepared to say more but then he recognizes his unfortunate victim. The cross necklace she had on earlier is gone, but it’s the same uptight girl with her knee-high socks and matching white blouse and skirt. She scrambles to gather her papers, and Richie helps her after noticing her face is bright red and she has tears running freely down her cheeks.  
“Hey… I didn’t mean to be an asshole, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Richie inquires. The girl stops and looks at Richie, sniffling. She runs a hand through her long blonde hair and says,

“I-I-I’m sorry I need t-to go,” and gets up to flee the scene, leaving some of the papers behind but not caring as she picks up her pace and runs into the girl's washroom at the end of the hallway. Richie, never one to take the hint to give up, follows her. Walking into the girl's washroom, as he has shamefully done before, he hears her sniffling from the far stall. 

“Hey, is there anything I can do to-”

“Oh my God! Are you seriously in here right now? Holy shit, get out before someone walks in!” the girl screams. 

“Okay, okay fine, I’m gone. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t the reason you’re upset is all.” And it’s true, he really does feel bad for what he said to her earlier, but sometimes his mouth moves before his brain can catch up. He moves for the door behind him when he hears her speak again,

“It wasn’t you. It was my boyfriend… h-he broke up with me right before f-first period.”

“That’s a real dick move, and I would know I’m the fucking king of dick moves.” A choked laugh escapes the stall, and Richie’s face relaxes knowing that he wasn’t the source of her distress. 

“Yeah I can t-tell… but h-he is a real asshole. Like a big fat a-asshole. And I’m g-g-glad to be rid of him.”

“Then why are you crying over him?” A profound silence enters the washroom, which is broken by a wrenching sob and an equally wrenching response,

“Because I wasted four years over him. My entire h-high school experience spent at his s-side, and t-trying to be who he wanted me to b-be. I even started going to ch-church with him to make his parents happy.” _Well, that explains the cross necklace,_ Richie thinks as he lets this information sink in. 

“I feel like I have no identity anymore, outside of being his girlfriend… all my friends are his friends, and my hobbies are his hobbies…” more sniffles sound from the stall.

“I know all about pretending to be someone who you’re not. Sometimes you’re in so deep that you can’t remember who you were to begin with,” Richie says, not quite sure why he’s divulging this heavy personal information with this stranger, but confident that she needs to hear it. And it works because the stall door is creaking open and she steps out, red-faced and snot-nosed. 

“Yeah. Fucking sucks” she laughs, reaching over the counter to grab some paper towels to wipe at her face. 

“Hey, I never got your name… mine’s Richie.”

“I know… everyone knows who you are. My name’s Stacy.” She moves towards Richie and discards the used paper towels in the trash can.  
“Pleasure to meet your acquaintance Stacy,” Richie starts, sticking his hand out, open-faced, “wanna go for a ride?”

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. stop dragging my heart around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie POV!

“Stan!... Stan!” Eddie calls out, cutting through the densely packed hallway towards the mop of curly, blonde hair just a few feet away.

“Eddie hey, are you sitting with us at lunch?” Stan inquires as the shorter boy finally reaches his side. Stan maneuvers Eddie’s body in front of his, both hands on either side of his waist to effectively guide him through the crowd. 

“I don’t know… I don’t know if I can talk to Richie right now, today’s stressful enough. You know Rachel Mayhew? I think she was legitimately crying after reading our Chemistry syllabus, and to be honest I might too.”

“Well, lucky for you, Richie’s not even here, he walked out of Calc and never walked back in,” Stan laughs in his ear.

“Of course he’s skipping on the first day of school, oh my God, he’s not even going to graduate, that fucking idiot. You know, he’s probably never gonna leave Derry with his shitty work ethic and attendance record, I mean how are you going to keep a job if you leave your shift halfway through? That shit isn’t gonna work outside of school and he’s gonna have such a rude awakening but he’s gonna fucking deserve it, Stan.” 

Eddie wants to continue, but when he looks back at Stan, he sees that his friend is giggling instead of nodding his head in somber agreement.

“Yeah laugh it up Stanley, it won’t be funny when he’s begging you for money when he’s broke and destitute.” They’ve reached the cafeteria now and are heading over to Bev who has successfully cordoned off a large table for the 7, er, 6 of them. 

“I just think it’s funny how much you care for him, Eddie.” A full-body shudder racks Eddie’s body as he mimics vomiting into a passing trash can. 

“Careful Stanley, if you make Eddie puke he definitely won’t be attending movie night,” Bev laughs as they take their seats in front of her. 

“Movie night? What movie night? Is… everyone invited? Does everyone know about this but me?” Eddie rattles off the questions as quickly as they come to mind.

“Yes, movie night this Friday, Ben’s house, everyone’s invited and everyone is coming, all that’s left is to ask Richie. Would you like that honour, Eddie?” Bev jests, laughing at the scarlet flush of Eddie’s face. He rolls his eyes and briefly considers the benefits of not attending movie night… namely just avoiding Richie. He imagines pretending to be sick, but quickly decides against this route when he factors his mother into the equation. 

“I know what you’re thinking Eddie, and no, you’re coming even if we have to drag you out of the Kaspbrak house in front of Sonia. We’re gonna watch Nightmare on Elm Street,” Bev cuts into his scheming.

“Oh come on! That’s not fair, you guys know Johnny Depp in a crop top is my weakness!” Eddie sulks. _So they’re playing dirty now_.

“You’re not special, Johnny Depp in a crop top is everyone’s weakness honey. Speaking of weaknesses, here comes Bill, Stanny,” Bev wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as Stan flushes and buries his face into his arms on the table. It’s blatantly obvious to every Loser, except Bill, that Stanley has an intense crush on him, and Eddie would think it's cute if he wasn’t so wrapped up in his own unrequited love story with Richie _fucking_ Tozier. 

Stan was right earlier, Eddie does care about Richie, even at his worst moments, and he wants to see Richie succeed in life. But, admittedly, Eddie is still fucking pissed about the whole Kyle situation. He’d never seen Richie so angry before, and part of him wanted to submit and apologize and run into his arms, especially when he used that voice, and that made Eddie even angrier that he had so much power over him. So he stood his ground because Richie was totally in the wrong! He just wished his friends would take his side, however, with every Richie vs. Eddie dispute, the Losers always agree not to pick sides or insert themselves unless necessary. Bullshit, Eddie thinks, they agree with me but don’t want to make Richie feel bad, is all. He’s so deep in thought that he hardly notices Bill taking his seat next to Stan, and Ben settling in next to Bev. 

“Earth to Eddie…” Ben snaps his fingers to wake Eddie up from his daze and sees everyone staring at him.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Eddie furrows his brows in confusion.

“W-we asked if you w-were planning on t-t-talking to Richie before the m-movie night.”

“Yeah, I know Richie and Eddie fights run their course in due time, but I really don’t want it to be awkward on Friday, so maybe you two should talk?” Stan interjects, splitting his candy bar in two to share with Bill. Eddie sighs, and it's his turn to bury his face in his folded arms on the table, only slightly cognizant of how dirty it probably is. He’ll have to wash his hands and arms after lunch. 

“Why can’t he talk to me? Why is the pressure on me to make things right? He was the one that went all Terminator on Kyle! I was not the problem!” Eddie’s voice wavers with rage and he sees Ben and Bev share a concerned look before returning their attention to Eddie.

“We just think,” Bev begins tentatively, trying to find the best way to say what she wants to say without angering Eddie further, “that since Richie hasn’t reached out… like he usually does, that maybe you could be the bigger person?” Eddie opens his mouth to counter Bev’s point but is swiftly cut off,

“We know that he was the one acting out of turn, but maybe if you reach out to him first it would go a long way. Richie’s sorry, I know he is, he’s told all of us,” Bev admits.

“So he can tell all of you that he’s sorry but he can’t apologize to the only person he actually fucking hurt? I call _bullshit_ , and if he’s really sorry then he’ll have the balls to approach me himself. The asshole hasn’t shown his face for two weeks! He obviously doesn’t care about me or my feelings and that tells me that he’s not a good friend after all.” 

Eddie starts getting up from the table, _at least they have the decency to look ashamed_ , he thinks after seeing their downcast faces.

“See you guys later, I need to stop at my locker,” he lets out before speed-walking in the opposite direction, muttering a quick hello to Mike as he passes by him. He’s so mad he’s shaking and he can’t believe his friends are trying to make him feel bad for Richie’s inappropriate behaviour! But part of him knows they just want things to go back to normal, so he almost feels bad for the way he left things with the Losers. Almost. 

As he’s leaving the rowdy cafeteria, he makes eye contact with Kyle, surrounded by his jock friends. He speed-walks even faster now, desperate to reach his locker. Luckily, it’s not far from the cafeteria and he scrambles to open the lock and grab his fanny pack from inside. Unzipping it and pulling out the blue inhaler, his whole body shudders in relief as the faintly medicinal vapour fills his lungs, calming each nerve, soothing his aching heart. He knows it’s all a mental thing, it’s not actual medicine, and he’s extremely embarrassed that he still relies so heavily on this stupid plastic trinket, but here he is. He places the pack back into the locker but decides to stash his inhaler in the front pocket of his backpack just in case. He snaps the lock shut and turns around to start walking. _I can’t go back to the cafeteria… and Mr. Epping has lunch duty so I can’t go to English already_. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Eddie sets off towards the school exit.

Pushing open the heavy door, he breaths in the warm air. There’s a soft breeze and it’s slightly cloudy, and Eddie loves this weather. He wishes it was even cooler so he could start wearing his favourite oversized sweatshirts and hoodies. 

Walking through the neatly mown grass towards the football field, Eddie spots small groups of students huddled together under trees or on blankets, eating their lunches and talking about their new teachers. Eddie makes his way over to the bleachers, usually breeding grounds for the stoners, but today it looks empty, lucky for him. He can’t help but look over to his left at the school parking lot. He’s not _looking for Richie’s truck_ , but he does notice that it’s missing. He idly wonders where he is right now… he can’t be at his house, Maggie would murder him for skipping the first day of school. He could be at the clubhouse, but it’s unlikely that he went all the way down to the Barrens to be alone all day. He wonders if he’s alone, or if one of his hook-ups is in his truck. Visions of Richie getting road head bubble up in Eddie’s mind, and just like that he’s angry again. 

Finally reaching the bleachers, he climbs to the top and plops himself down on the uncomfortable metal bench. Leaning back against the steel bars, Eddie closes his eyes and tries to forget those images. Instead, his depraved brain conjures new pictures of _Eddie_ in Richie’s truck. Being covered by his larger body, having his hands rove over his bare skin. He wonders what it’d feel like to have one of those slender fingers tease and open him up. He lets himself imagine how Richie would feel inside of him. He’s sure that Richie has a big dick, he just has that cocky energy about him. He wants Richie to take control and tear into him in the back of his truck. He wants to be so good for Richie that he’ll forget every other slut he’s been with. Nobody but his Eddie would be good enough. As Eddie emerges from his daydream, he realizes how hard he is. Turning around to assess the yard behind him, he sees the students starting to move towards the door, signalling the end of the lunch period. Shit. Trying desperately to will away his boner, Eddie hears the sputtering sound of a truck on its last legs pull into the parking lot. He doesn’t even need to look to know exactly what make and colour it is, and he knows he has to get out of here now. Bolting upright and jumping off the side of the bleachers in one quick movement, Eddie sticks the landing with the precision of a trained gymnast. He heads for the door, which is farther than he wanted it to be, keeping his eyes focused and not letting them drift over to where the truck has stopped making noise. He’s almost reached the door when he hears a shrill cry,

“Richie!! Stoppp! Richieee,” followed by a string of giggles. Eddie spins around to see some blonde bimbo hanging off of Richie’s leather-clad arm. He’s in the process of whispering something in her ear, and Eddie gags as he witnesses his tongue poking out of his mouth to lick up the bitch’s earlobe. More giggles escape her mouth, and she laughs even harder when she sees Eddie frozen in place, blocking their path. 

“Richie,” she says, grasping his chin and turning his head away from her neck to focus on Eddie. 

“Sup, Eds. Mind scooching over for us? I’m being quite the gentleman and escorting this young lass to class. Don’t wanna be late, right Stace?” He adds with a wink, his wicked grin making Eddie’s stomach churn. 

“Richie we need to talk,” Eddie blurts out as he crosses his arms and taps his sneakers into the cement impatiently.

“Sure, sure, I would love to talk. But not right now Spaghetti Man, Stacy has me all booked up for the evening I’m afraid. Maybe I can fit you in sometime tomorrow, give my secretary a call, okay babes?” Richie moves to guide Stacy around Eddie’s body, but as he passes by, Eddie shoots his arm forward to grab at Richie’s, fingers holding tight to the smooth leather material. 

“Richie… please.”  
He knows he’s bringing out the big guns, Richie’s always been a sucker for soft, sweet Eddie. And when Richie makes eye contact with Eddie, he even flashes his puppy dog eyes and juts his bottom lip out in a slight pout. Instantly, Richie’s eyes soften at the sight of it, and Eddie revels in the momentary power he has over him… until the floozy starts tugging on his arm again.

“Come on Richieee, I have to stop at my locker before English!” she cries, destroying the tender moment. Richie’s eyes don’t leave Eddie’s, even as she starts dragging his body towards the door. Eddie was so certain that Richie is about to tell her off so they can finally talk, that he feels his eyes well up with tears when Richie says,

“Sorry Edward, all booked up,” and walks away from his best friend of 15 years, arm-in-arm with a girl he’s known for less than three hours. Eddie feels so grateful for the fact that he stashed his inhaler in his backpack earlier when he realizes he hasn’t been breathing. _Who the fuck is she? Where the fuck did she come from? Did Richie have sex with her? Was he trying to make me jealous because it fucking worked!_ In a state of shock, Eddie hardly recognizes that he’s re-entered the school and is walking into the nurse’s office until he hears Nurse Mandy asking if he’s alright. Taking a deep breath and laying out all the possible outcomes in his mind, Eddie settles on this course of action and responds,

“Can you call my Mommy… I’m not feeling well.”

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, next chapter the SMUT begins.


	3. soft shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan POV!
> 
> okay, here's a little smutty Stan interlude to break up the Reddie angst.
> 
> while this fic is mainly Reddie-centric, I couldn't help myself.
> 
> also, this is my first time writing about sex so that's a friggin' milestone.

Eddie’s abrupt departure from the Losers table left a sour taste in Stan’s mouth. He knew that they handled it poorly and that they shouldn’t have pressured Eddie to apologize when really, they all knew that Richie was being an asshole. 

“What’s wrong with Eddie, and why do you all look like you’re attending a funeral?” Mike inquires as approaches the table cautiously and slides into his spot next to Bill. 

“We asked E-Eddie to apologize t-to Richie…”

“Oh. I can imagine how well he took that,” Mike states plainly.

“I’m going after him,” Bev says, shooting out of her seat and stuffing her lunchbox into her sack.

“I’ll go with you Bev, he’s probably going to his English room,” Ben offers, following her out of the cafeteria like the diligent boyfriend he is. 

“So… senior year is certainly off to a start,” Mike jests, but neither Bill nor Stan laughs. Tension in the group is uncomfortable territory. Other than the brief dispute between Bill and Richie back in the Pennywise era, they’ve always come around to one another despite their disagreements. But this fight feels different. _It feels like a turning point_ , Stan thinks, _it’s building to something, but I don’t know where it’s heading_. The awkward silence at the table is broken when Bill blurts out,

“For my art c-class, I have to d-draw a photo r-realistic image of something in n-n-nature. S-Stan, would you wanna get t-together tonight and sh-show me your b-bird book?” 

Stan smiles, if there’s one thing he loves more than birds, it’s talking about birds, and if there’s one thing he loves more than talking about birds, it’s talking about birds with Bill.

“Yeah, sure Bill! My parents won’t be home, so do you wanna meet up after school? We can stop at the new Scoops parlour by my house and grab some ice cream… if you want,” Stan finishes lamely, hoping his voice doesn’t give away how nervous yet excited he is. For a few years now, Stan has pined for Bill Denbrough, the oblivious fucker. By now, everyone in the Losers Club knows this and has been (not so subtly) pushing for Stan to tell Bill, and he finally has the courage to do so. It’s happening tonight, no matter what. Who knows when the two of them might be alone again? 

“O-okay Stan, Mike d-do you wanna come t-too?” Somewhere in the recesses of Stan’s head, he hears glass shattering. _No no no no no no saynopleasesayno_.

“I have practice for two hours, but maybe I can come after that? Is that okay with you Stan?” Mike asks.

Stan feels guilty for not wanting Mike to be there, so he says yes. He loves Mike, just like he loves the rest of the Losers. Yes, he’s very attractive too with his broad shoulders and defined muscles and richly coloured skin. And he really is as much of a sweetheart as Ben. But is Stan selfish for wanting Bill all to himself tonight? Maybe… but he doesn’t care. He’s telling Bill tonight, he’ll just have to do it before 5:30 pm.

~~

It’s 5:06 pm when Stan looks up at his alarm clock on his bedside table. _Time flies_. He returns his gaze to Bill, who is right next to him on the queen-sized bed, but still too far away. Stan wants nothing more than to shift ever so slightly towards him to make contact with his warm body, but he’s shaking too much to do so in a discreet manner. Mike should show up anytime between 5:30 and 6:00 pm, so it’s now or never. _Maybe in a little bit_ , Stan determines, savouring what could possibly be the last moments of their friendship before his nuclear truth disintegrates everything in its path. Bill, on the other hand, is far too focused on his sketch to pick up on Stanley’s nerves, with his eyes glued to his notepad, flicking back and forth between that and a picture of a black-capped chickadee. 

“It’s turning out really well Bill… do you maybe want to take a break soon? My parents rented Pet Sematary from Blockbuster if you want to watch it together.” Stan is relieved that his voice sounds normal when he finishes his sentence.

“Uhhh, I don’t know S-Stan, I’m making g-good progress h-h-here,” Bill responds without taking his eyes off of his page. 

“Yeah, okay. That’s cool. Do you need water or something? I can put on music if you’d like?”

“Stan, you know you d-don’t have to watch me. If you w-want to watch a m-movie you can, I’ll join you when I’m d-done,” Bill says as he starts detailing the feathers in his drawing.

“No, it’s okay, Bill. Seriously. I really like watching you draw, you’re so talented. I wish I had half the artistic ability that you have.” 

Stan blushes when Bill puts his pencil down and turns to look him in the eye. _Now I’ve got his attention_ , he thinks but is unable to speak staring into Bill’s stormy blue eyes. 

“Stan, you’re the smartest person I know, I wish I had half the smarts you have.” 

That short, sweet statement goes right to Stan’s groin, especially when he realizes that Bill didn’t stutter once. It’s a known fact amongst the Losers that when Bill doesn’t stutter, he’s talking about something he’s very passionate about. But just as suddenly as this tender moment began, it’s over, and Bill’s attention is pulled back into his artwork. Minutes pass, and when Stan looks at his alarm clock next, it flashes 5:15 pm. He goes back to watching Bill draw and quickly becomes frustrated by the amount of time he is devoting to insignificant detailing. By 5:20, Stan decides to cut through the silence.

“Are you almost done?” He asks, immediately regretting how impatient his tone is. Bill’s body stills and Stan thinks he’s fucked it all up.

“S-sorry… I th-thought you said you l-liked watching me d-d-d-d… draw.” _Fuck that was a bad stutter_ , Stan thinks. Bill hasn’t even turned to look at him yet. 

“Shit, sorry Bill that came off ruder than intended. I just… you know… I was just wondering, is all.” Smooth. 

“Stan?” Bill is looking at Stan know, his body finally turned away from the stunningly realized chickadee in his notebook. 

“Yeah?” He cringes at his voice crack.

“You’re k-kinda acting weird t-today. Is everything okay? You c-can t-tell me anything.” 

Stan is touched by his friend’s concern, but that feeling is outweighed by the crushing anxiety he feels. It’s now or never…

“I’m gay.” Stan declares. 

“Oh. T-That’s nice, Stan. Thanks f-for telling me.” 

“Yeah. Um, it’s not really something I want to tell the rest of the Losers yet.”

“That’s okay… I can keep a secret.”

“Okay. Thanks, Bill.”

Stan doesn’t know what otherworldly force inhabits his body in the next few moments, but suddenly he’s propelled himself forwards to clash his lips against Bill’s (he misses them by a few centimetres and ends up connecting with his chin, but quickly adjusts). It’s his first kiss, and the way his teeth scrape against Bill’s is kind of an unpleasant feeling. But then he senses Bill’s tongue tracing his bottom lip, wordlessly asking for entrance. So he opens his mouth, and in no time, Bill’s tongue is exploring every inch, dancing around Stan’s own roving tongue. He’s so caught up in the sensation of two tongues mingling that he hardly notices Bill’s hands gripping his waist, pulling their bodies flush in the middle of the bed. His cock is painfully hard by the time they pull apart for air. They’re panting heavily and their faces are so close together that Stan can make out the faint freckles scattered across his nose. Bill’s eyes, however, are locked onto Stan’s with an intensity that makes him quiver when he makes eye contact again. Pupils blown wide with lust, mouth swollen and cherry red from making out… this is the best day of Stan’s life. 

“We can k-keep that a secret too… if you w-want,” Bill says breathlessly, breathing in Stan’s air like it’s the only oxygen left on Earth. Stan wants to reply with something smart, but the way Bill’s looking up at him through his eyelashes completely derails his train of thought. So instead, he dives back in, kissing Bill ferociously, tugging at his auburn hair and lapping up his moans. When Bill’s lips are sufficiently claimed, Stan moves to his neck, nipping at the tender flesh and then sucking violent red marks. Having his face so deeply buried in Bill’s neck is great, especially because he gets to hear every sound that Bill makes, with his mouth so close to his ear he’s almost kissing it. 

“Want you to f-fuck me,” Bill whispers. Stan pauses. He did not expect that. Not that he has any objections, but in all his fantasies, he imagined Bill being the one on top, not the opposite. But hey, he’ll take what he can get.

“I don’t have condoms… wait! In my parents room… hang on,” Stan rushes out of the room, and Bill can’t help but to smirk when he sees the tent in his khaki shorts. Grabbing the lube and a few condoms from his parents ‘hidden’ stash under their bed, Stan rushes back to his room. Upon re-entry, Stan almost busts when he is treated to the sight of Bill Denbrough wearing only a long-sleeve Henley, arched back, leaning on his left elbow as he strokes himself out in the open. His eyes are shut and his mouth is making an ‘O’ shape as soft moans escape from it. Stan tentatively approaches the bed, not wanting to disrupt the sexiest sight he’s ever seen, but also wanting so badly to touch and taste and surround himself with Bill. When Stan runs his hand up Bill’s smooth inner thigh, his eyes shudder open and he _gasps_.  
“You can t-touch me here too S-Stan…” Bill doesn’t specify where he’s referring to, but Stan has a good enough idea, so he pulls Bill’s arm away and replaces his hand on his cock with his own. It’s a perfect cock, not as long as Stan’s but girthy, and his hand slides up and down the shaft easily due to the presence of unknown lubrication. _Bill must have used his own spit as lube_ , Stan realizes, groaning at how hot that sounds. As his right-hand pumps Bill’s cock, falling into a rhythm, his left rucks up the grey Henley, wanting badly to touch the nipples he can see poking through the thin material. Bill gets the hint, and quickly removes the shirt altogether, hurling it carelessly off the bed and out of their view. At the sight of his bare chest, Stan abandons jerking him off and instead uses both hands to roughly push Bill onto his back, flat against the comforter. The gasp that leaves Bill’s lips fuels Stan’s hard-on, which is beginning to leak copiously into his shorts, untouched. Using his thumbs to caress and tease both of Bill’s nipples, he leans down to capture his open mouth in another searing kiss, swallowing another lascivious moan when he grinds his clothed cock on Bill’s exposed one. 

“T-take it… off… wanna feel you,” Bill says in between each kiss, hands pulling at Stan’s t-shirt.

Reluctantly breaking away, Stan discards his shirt and starts getting rid of his shorts and underwear, eager to let his dick out of its confinement. During the all too lengthy process, Bill takes it upon himself to grab the bottle of lube that Stan had dropped on the bed, and pours a generous amount out onto his hand. Warming it up between his fingers, Bill leans back, legs spread obscenely, and coats his puckered hole with the slick liquid. When his fingers dip inside, he lets out a noise that sounds closer to a sob than a moan. Finally, Stan’s as naked as Bill and he smirks when he catches Bill lick his swollen lips. Watching Bill work himself open, Stan slips the condom on and takes the lube from Bill’s side, repeating the same process he just witnessed, except he’s coating his 8-inch cock instead of his hole. Carefully lining up this penis with Bill’s slicked hole, he lowers himself over Bill’s body. But before he can penetrate, Stan is suddenly overcome with nerves. _What if I hurt him?_ As if sensing his partner’s distress, Bill cups Stan’s face with his hands, whispering,

“I want you… I want you so badly Stan. Please fuck me.” And if that wasn’t enough motivation, Bill decides to grind his ass closer to Stan’s erect cock, so they’re finally making contact. When the head pops into Bill’s hole, he almost screams, forcing Stanley to pull out immediately, feeling so guilty for hurting him. He’s confused when Bill whines instead of howls in pain.

“W-why’d you stop?” He manages to get out in his blissful haze.

“You sounded like you were in pain… I thought I hurt you, Bill.”

“Oh,” Bill giggles, “it didn’t hurt… it f-felt really good. I’ve fingered myself b-before so you d-don’t have to worry about hurting me.” 

Relief washes over Stan, and he quickly realigns himself to enter his best friend’s hole again. This time, when the head pops in, Bill doesn’t scream, opting for digging his nails into Stan’s back instead. Pushing deeper and deeper, until he’s fully sheathed in Bill’s wet heat, Stan is only partially aware of the fact that Bill is leaving some serious marks on his back. Waiting just a few moments for Bill’s muscles to relax before moving, Stan savours the feeling of being so intimately connected with Bill. He thinks back to earlier in the day when he was so worried about Bill rejecting him and wishes he could send his past self a picture of Bill, just like he is now, blissed out on his cock. When Bill taps his leg to signal that he’s ready, Stan begins to move. Starting slowly, he fully withdraws his cock and then slams it back in, fully sheathing it again. The noise Bill makes is incredible. Something in between a whimper and a groan. Stan decides he doesn’t care about his own orgasm or satisfaction, all he wants to hear Bill make that sound over and over. And he succeeds. In fact, Bill’s making so much noise, and Stan is so enraptured in the pornographic sounds, that neither of them hears the knocks at the front door, let alone the door opening and shutting. Or the voice calling their names. Or the footsteps coming up the stairs. Or the figure standing in the doorway to Stan’s room. No, Stan’s too focused on fucking Bill at a breakneck pace to notice that someone is watching them go at it like rabbits. 

“S-so good Stan. Feels so good, wanna cum soo bad, wanted you for so long, Stan.”

“I want to see you cum, Billy. God, you’re so beautiful like this… so perfect for me baby.”

They’re both babbling now as they chase their orgasms. As far as they are concerned, nothing exists at this moment but the two of them, and their pleasure.  
Until a throat clears behind them, cutting through the lustful haze, sucking Stan out of their blissful vacuum. A wave of nausea and dread runs through his body. Dick still fully submerged in Bill’s tight hole, Stan turns his body to see Mike Hanlon standing at the threshold of his room, eyes wide open, pants tented, and mouth wide open.

“Fuck,” Stan sighs. Then he feels Bill’s tightness contract, even more, squeezing his cock back to full hardness, followed by a muffled shout. Turning away from Mike to investigate this strange phenomenon, Stan takes in the sight of Bill Denbrough, covered in his own cum, cock twitching, eyes rolled back with his fist shoved into his mouth. _Fuck_. The alarm clock blinks 5:45 pm. 

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bill denbrough is a needy bottom i dont make the rules, I just enforce them
> 
> also yes, bill came when he saw mike watching. just in case that wasn't clear 
> 
> next chapter will probably be up tomorrow lol, I have no life right now so yuh, hope you liked it!


	4. losing my religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie POV!

It’s Tuesday and Eddie Kaspbrak is not at school. Part of Richie knows that he’s to blame, especially after their encounter in the yard with Stacy. But another part of Richie doesn’t believe that Eddie could be so torn up over Richie that he skipped school. In fact, all of the Losers were shocked to discover that Eddie was not at school, especially Bev, who kept eyeing Richie suspiciously. At lunch, Richie was introducing the Losers to Stacy, who all seemed to know her already from their previous classes. The conversation is a little tense, with Bev glaring at Richie the entire time, and Bill, Stan, and Mike all looking forlorn, desperately avoiding each other’s eye contact. It’s so noticeable that Richie is even about to crack a joke at their expense when a tiny little freshman approached their table, visibly nervous to be talking to seniors. Richie’s never seen this kid in his life, and is about to tell him off when the boy squeaks out,

“Hey, um, guys. So uh, I was in the nurse’s office yesterday, and uh, Eddie Kaspbrak came in. He looked fine to me, maybe um a little out of it, but get this! He asked Nurse Mandy to call his mom…” 

A few gasps sounded around the table, even from Stacy. It was common knowledge at Derry High that Sonia Kaspbrak was the most paranoid, overprotective mother on the face of the Earth. It was also common knowledge that Eddie never willingly told her about any sicknesses or injuries in fear of how she might react and for how long he will be put on bed rest. The boy slinks away from their table, and Richie knows Bev is shooting daggers at him, so he’s doing everything in his power to avoid looking at her right now, opting instead for staring at Stan’s blank face. _Seriously what is up with him today?_ Richie thinks, noticing that Stan had zero reaction to Danny’s news. 

“Staniel,” Richie calls out, “Come with me, I need to visit the ladies' room.” 

Stan looks over at Richie, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern lining his face. But, as good friends do, he doesn’t question Richie and gets up from the table to follow his lead. As Richie gets up as well, he ends up making accidental eye contact with Bill, who’s hands are visibly shaking. _Jesus, why are we such a mess on the second day of school?_ Stacy looks marginally upset by Richie’s sudden departure, so he leaves her with a kiss on the cheek and a smack on the ass, drawing a sharp yelp from her pretty pink lips. 

“See you around Stacy-baby.”

As soon as the two of them exit the cafeteria, side-by-side, Richie tugs Stan by the collar of his polo into a deserted stairwell to avoid any prying eyes and listening ears. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Richie pries,

“Stan, you’re my best friend, so please don’t take this the wrong way when I tell you that you look like shit. What’s going on? Did Bill do something?” 

Knowing that Stan has been working up the courage to confess his love for Bill for a while now, and seeing how the two of them couldn’t look at each other at the lunch table, Richie figures it has to do with Bill. Swallowing thickly, Stan starts,

“Bill and I had sex last night…”

“Oh, Stan that’s-”

“I’m not finished,” Stan sighs and takes a few breaths to steady himself before continuing, “we had sex and it was great and amazing, and hot. It was so incredible Richie, seriously. But we didn’t even get to finish because _Mike_ fucking walked in on us…”

Richie’s jaw drops. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but he’s looking at Stan’s sad expression and decides not to. 

“Fuck, Stan. Mike walked in… like during it?”

“Yeah, during.”

“Like while Bill was fucking you?”

“No Richie, while _I_ was fucking Bill.”

“No _fucking_ way.” 

“Yes fucking way. Are you gonna make a big thing out of this?”

Richie feels like an 8-year-old being told that Santa Claus doesn’t exist. Bill Denbrough, the alpha male of the Losers Club, the ringleader, ‘Big Bill’ let Stanley Uris rail his ass? He can hardly believe it! The mental images that are running through Richie’s mind are enough to get any teenage boy hard, and Richie has to visualize Eddie’s mom to impede his boner’s progress. And fuck, now that he’s thinking about Sonia, Richie’s picturing little Eddie Kaspbrak in his Batman pyjamas buried under his comforter at home. Either that or he’s being flown to New York to see a specialist for his fake illness, you never really know with that woman. He briefly considers going over after school to climb through his bedroom window like they used to do, but then he remembers their relationship status. He must be thinking about Eddie for a while because Stan suddenly snaps,

“Richie, are you planning on answering my question today or tomorrow?” Richie’s desperately trying to remember what the fuck Stan’s question was, and he’s obviously taking too much time again because Stan makes to leave the stairwell.

“Oh my God, you’re so immature, why did I tell you anything…”

“No! Stan I’m sorry, Jesus I’m sorry, I was just thinking about… Eddie. Wondering if he’s okay.”

Stan stops in his tracks and returns to Richie to place his hands on his shoulders. 

“Just give him some space… he’ll come around. I know it’s been two weeks but he can’t avoid you forever. And Sonia can’t keep him from school forever. First chance you get, you need to apologize though, asshole.” Stan punctuates that statement with an affectionate punch to the shoulder, trying to get at least a laugh out of Richie. But Richie isn’t laughing. He’s silent. And a silent Richie is a concerning Richie, that’s Loser 101. 

“Stan I really fucked up. I’m the reason Eddie’s ‘sick’. I talked to him yesterday… briefly. He wanted to talk about Kyle I think but I blew him off. Jesus, Stan I feel so fucking terrible. He went to fucking _Sonia_ because he didn’t want to be around me. All because I was fucking jealous that he was with another friend.”

“You obviously weren’t jealous that Eddie had made a platonic friend. He literally told you that they liked each other so let’s not kid ourselves, Rich. I’m going to be honest with you. I am saying this as your friend. But if I was Eddie, I wouldn’t want to talk to you either, let alone be your friend. I know everyone else is tiptoeing around this, but you have some serious shit to discuss with him. Not just apologizing for the Kyle situation, because that day was really just the tip of the iceberg, and I know you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Enlighten me Staniel.” 

“Richie, please don’t make me say it. You know what I mean,” Stan exasperates, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I’m not kidding Stanley, tell me.” 

Richie knows exactly what Stan is about to say. He just wants to hear it said out loud by someone other than himself.

“You’re in love with Eddie,” _yeah no shit Stanley_ , “and he’s in love with you”.

_Oh._

“Did he tell you this? Please don’t fucking lie to me about this Stanley.” Richie feels his throat close up as the sudden onset of emotions hits him like a goddamn bullet train.

“No he didn’t tell me anything, but it’s so fucking obvious. I mean, you seriously don’t think it’s weird that you two cuddle every chance you get? Dude, you should have seen how jealous he got when you got suspended for fingering Lizzie Sanders during the pep rally. Not as jealous as you got obviously, he didn’t fucking threaten anyone, but he was still jealous enough to go off on a huge tirade against her in front of me. It was kinda scary, actually.”

“Oh my God, that was a dare, I literally have no feelings for Liz Sanders, jeez Louise I forgot that even happened, that’s how little it meant to me.”

“Hey, I’m not the one that needs to hear that,” Stan rolls his eyes. 

“So moral of the story… you think Eddie has, like, feelings… for me?”

“Richie he lets you sleep in his bed without taking a full decontamination shower. Yes, I think he has feelings for you.”

Richie feels a rush of adrenaline take over his body at that. All he’s wanted since he was 12 was for Eddie Kaspbrak to love him, and here Stan is, telling him that it’s possible! Just at that thought, he breaks out into a goofy grin and pulls Stanley in for a suffocating hug, which Stan immediately pushes away from in faux disgust. Then suddenly, as if someone flipped a light switch, all of the humour in Stanley’s face goes out, and the distant look in his eye comes back.

“Richie, if I tell you something, do you promise not to tell a soul? Not even Eddie?”

“Stan, I doubt I’ll be telling Eddie anything in the coming months. So yeah, lay it on me.”

“After Mike walked in on Bill and I… they sort of professed their love for each other…,” Richie’s heart breaks for Stan in the few moments it takes for him to work up the courage to continue.

“It was really awkward. But the fucking weirdest part is that Bill still wants me. He wants me and Mike.” 

Richie takes some time to let everything sink in before responding, because how do you fucking respond to the news that your best friends are possibly in a three-way polyamorous relationship? Finally, he breaks the silence asking,

“So, how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. Of course I want to be with Bill, I’ve wanted that for a long fucking time, and I finally have the opportunity. But I have to share him… and it’s not that I don’t like Mike, I love Mike! He’s funny, he’s kind, and he’s… kinda hot too. And he’s down with, you know, being with both of us. But it’s just a lot to take in. So I told them I’d think about it.”

“Is that why Bill’s acting like he’s waiting for his husband to come back from the great war?”

“Yeah, I might have been a little… unbalanced when they told me.”

“Unbalanced?” Richie asks with a smirk.

“Okay, I stormed out of my room and locked myself in the bathroom to cry. Happy?”

“Well, shit. Do you want to skip next period and smoke a bowl? As… enlightening as this conversation has been, I need to get out of my head for a while, and I’m sure you could too.”

“Richie, I’m not going to smoke at _school_. I have to go anyways, I’ll see you later,” Stan turns to walk away. 

“Hey, Stan… I hope everything works out with Bill. And Mike.”

“Yeah, you and me both Trashmouth,” he calls out as he pushes past the door leading into the now crowded hallway. The cacophony of sounds radiating from the hallway fills up the lonely stairwell for a few seconds, until the door shuts with a click and a slam, trapping Richie with his thoughts. Eager to escape the claustrophobic environment, Richie heads for the exit door behind him. Breathing in the fresh air, and digging through the many pockets of his leather jacket for his car keys, Richie flees the school. _I’m only missing Physics, Chemistry, and History anyway._

The field is relatively empty as he crosses it to reach the parking lot. A few students are running in the opposite direction, towards the school as Richie passes by. He glances at the bleachers and spies a head of blonde hair standing there with her arms crossed. Quickly recalculating his course, Richie saunters over to her, and is greeted by a sultry smile and an even sultrier,

“You weren’t thinking of leaving without me were you, Richie?” 

_She’s trying too hard_ , Richie thinks as she bits her lip seductively. He likes Stacy, and he had fun with her, but just like Liz Sanders, he feels nothing for her. The sole purpose of his involvement with her was to make Eddie jealous, and it’s kind of pointless to continue this charade when he isn’t even around. 

“I gotta take care of some shit, Stace,” he says bluntly, giving her a curt pat on the shoulder and spinning on his heels to walk towards his truck. 

“Rich!” he stops, looking back at her expectantly, “don’t you wanna have some fun?”

“Nope!” he huffs and picks up his pace to reach the safety and security of his vehicle. He can feel her glare as he leaves her in his dust, but he can’t find it in himself to really care. If there’s one takeaway from his conversation with Stan, it’s that Eddie may be harbouring feelings for Richie, and that’s all he seems to be capable of thinking about. He’s formed a plan; he knows that Sonia probably took off the week from work to take care of Eddie, and he knows that he’ll be placed on bed rest for the duration of his ‘recovery’. Luckily, his next-door neighbour has a perfectly sized tree with a branch that hangs right next to Eddie’s window. All he has to do is stakeout the Kaspbrak household and wait for Sonia to leave for a re-up of whatever drugs she’s pumping her son with, real or fake, at Keene’s pharmacy. In all honesty, the only factor that Richie is unsure of in his plan is Eddie. Hopefully, he doesn’t have an aneurysm when Richie pops up in his window in the middle of the day. And hopefully, he doesn’t call the cops, or worse, Sonia. But the myriad of negative outcomes outweighs Richie’s optimistic spirit, so he hops in his truck, turns the ignition, and speeds out of the lot, not looking back once. 

~~

He’s staked out at the end of Eddie’s street, a healthy distance away so that Sonia doesn’t spot his truck. She’d recognize it in an instant, as she’s made many comments on how it’s a ‘rusty death trap’ and how Eddie is strictly forbidden to sit in it. He stopped at a drive-thru along the way and had just finished wolfing down a double cheeseburger and fries when the lady of the hour, Sonia Kaspbrak, trudges out the front door of the house, sweating, and pink as the day she was born. Vibrating with excitement, Richie waits just a while longer until her car turns off the street, heading deeper into town. Then, he hops out of the truck and practically sprints towards the house. 

When he reaches the base of the tree, he shoots up it, surprising himself at how after all these years, it’s still like second nature to him. He’s so close to the bedroom window now he can practically taste the air, perfumed with the unique scent that can only be described as Eddie. Crawling across the branch that hangs perfectly under the window, Richie peers into the room, as familiar as his own. The tiny bed tucked into the corner with the oversized comforter, because Eddie loves being encompassed by warmth. The bed is suspiciously empty, however, and as he searches the rest of the small room, there is a distinct lack of Eddie. Not one to be easily discouraged, Richie slides the window open and slips inside, landing lightly on the carpeted floor. He quickly regrets wearing his boots and tracking dirt inside Eddie’s room so he takes them off and places them on their side on the window sill. He can hear a muffled voice emanating from downstairs, and quickly recognizes it as Eddie’s. Tip-toeing from the room, Richie makes towards the staircase, Eddie’s voice growing louder with each passing step, _he must be on the phone with someone_. At the top of the stairs Richie can just make out what is being said, so he stops to listen. He’s not eavesdropping, he’s just being polite and waiting for Eddie to finish his conversation.

“Bev, I appreciate your concern, but if you keep calling the house, Sonia is never going to let me hang out with you all again. She thinks that you’re trying to corrupt me and have been forcing me to smoke cigarettes and have pre-marital sex. Yeah I know, fucking gross… no I don’t want to talk to him… why does everyone insist on asking me about him, I don’t care about him! And he doesn’t care about me. I’m sure he’s too occupied with his new girlfriend anyways… can we just not talk about Richie, I’m getting bored of him. How’s everyone else?”

Richie’s heart sinks at what his best friend has to say. It’s one thing for Eddie to talk about Richie with spite and violence colouring his voice because at least that means Eddie’s passionate about him, however negative those feelings might be. But hearing him lose any interest in Richie, that fucking hurts. 15 years of friendship lost over two weeks. Deciding against whatever his ADD brain had cooked up earlier, all Richie wants is to escape the house that was once his second home. Reaching the bedroom, he scoffs when he sees his boots sitting on the windowsill. Listening for Eddie’s voice, he hears the phone conversation continuing faintly downstairs. Affirmed by this, Richie begins the lengthy process of lacing his boots up, still being careful not to leave any dirt on any surfaces. He’s only somewhat aware of the tears welling up in his eyes and trickling down his face. The only thing running through his mind is:

_EddieKaspbrakDoesn’tLoveYou,EddieKaspbrakDoesn’tCareAboutYou,EddieKaspbrakDoesn’tLoveYou,EddieKaspbrakDoesn’tCareAboutYou_

He’s so caught up in that harrowing thought that he has completely abandoned lacing his boots, and is instead curled up on the soft floor letting the tears flow freely, savouring the last few moments he might ever spend in Eddie’s sacred room. He remembers the first time Sonia let Richie come inside their house for a playdate, her beady eyes watching him like a hawk the entire time. He remembers the first time he climbed through the window to spend the night, their hushed voices from underneath the comforter, alone together at last. He remembers the last time he spent the night, pressed up against the wall uncomfortably in the too-small bed, but not wanting it any other way as he cards his hand through sleeping Eddie’s hair. He remembers one night during the summer of ’89, holding Eddie as he cried, eternally scarred from the horrors they had witnessed. He had cooed him to sleep that night, whispering “it’s okay” and “it’s over” and “I’m here” until the tears stopped. Richie had begun threading his fingers through the carpet, pretending it was Eddie’s soft brown curls when an alarmed gasp sounds out at the threshold of the room.

“Richie?”

He wipes his tears to see Eddie’s blurry silhouette standing in the doorway. Realizing the vulnerable position he put himself in, Richie slowly gets up from his spot on the floor, and without chancing any further heartbreak by looking his old friend in the eye, he spits out,

“It’s okay Eds, I don’t care about me either,” and hops out the window. 

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygod why do i make myself mad writing these cliffhangers lol


	5. wipe your tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie POV!

“Richie!” Eddie yells from his bedroom window, straining his eyes against the blinding sunlight to see where he ran off to. His eyes adjust quickly but it’s still too late, and Richie is out of sight. _Shit_. Running out of the room and down the stairs at a speed that would make his mother quake with fear, he shoots out the front door, barefoot, and in his pyjamas. There’s no sign of Richie as Eddie scans his street. Only his neighbour from across the street is out, cutting their lawn, and a few kids are walking home from school, giggling at the sight of Eddie’s Batman pyjamas. Then he hears what sounds closer to a death rattle than the sound of a car engine being turned on, and he looks just in time to see Richie’s red truck reverse from its parking spot a few houses down, and speed off down a side road. 

“Fucking shit!” he whispers, running back inside the house, slamming the door behind him. He looks at the wall clock; it’s 4:04 pm, Sonia should be back by 4:10. Without much time to spare, Eddie propels himself towards the telephone and rings up Bev’s aunt’s house. The few moments it takes for Bev to pick up the phone are painful. He can’t stop thinking about Richie’s face… he’s never seen Richie cry before, not even during the whole Pennywise incident. But he was full-on sobbing on Eddie’s bedroom floor. _What the fuck!?_

“Hello?” 

“Bev! Richie was here, he was at my house, he was in my room-”

“Oh my God, Eddie are you okay, did he hurt you!?”

“Shut up, he was here but he was crying and I think he heard our conversation because he said that he didn’t care about himself or something like that and then he fucking jumped out of the window and I couldn’t stop him! He just fucking drove off and I don’t know where he’s going but you need to find him, get the Losers together and find him.” Eddie is panting by the time he’s finished informing Bev of the situation, and he’s not quite sure if he’s sweating or crying. Maybe both. 

“Okay Eddie, I’ll call Ben and then I’ll call Maggie, maybe he just went home. Are you going to be alright if I hang up?”

“Yeah I’ll be okay Bev… just… hurry. He… he sounded like he was going to hurt himself. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him Beverly,” now he’s definitely crying.

“Eddie. Listen to me. We will make sure he’s okay. Call me back whenever you can, I’m going to get the Losers together. He’ll be okay.” 

Instead of saying goodbye and risking sobbing over the phone, Eddie just sniffles and hangs up. He can hear the sound of Sonia pulling into the driveway with his meds, so he sprints up the stairs and into his room. When the front door slams shut behind her, he’s already hidden under his comforter, face buried into his pillow to catch his tears. Not wasting any time, Sonia barrels into his room, her voice sickeningly sweet when she says,

“Eddie-bear… you know better than to keep the window open. You don’t know what kind of insects or vermin you could be letting in. Or what diseases they’re carrying.”

He responds with a muffled “yes, mommy” and hopes to God she’ll drop the pills on his bedside table and take her leave. He hears the sound of his window clicking shut, and the rattling of his new prescription as the pill bottle is placed next to his concealed head. 

“I’m making chicken noodle soup for supper, I’ll wake you when it’s ready.”

“Okay mommy,” he’s so fucking relieved she’s leaving. He’ll have to drop some money in the offering plate at church next time he goes, to show his appreciation. 

“Oh, and Eddie-bear. I don’t want to hear you’ve been hanging around with the Tozier boy. He almost ran me off the road on my way home. That awful truck,” she finishes, leaving the room and tugging his door almost closed, but slightly ajar so she could hear if he was getting into any trouble. Eddie hates that she does that, but today he doesn’t care, because all he plans on doing for the next few hours until dinner is sleeping, and worrying, and crying. And so Eddie falls asleep, making one more silent prayer to God, asking for him to watch over Richie Tozier and to keep him safe. 

~~

When Eddie wakes up to Sonia’s cries of “Supper! Eddie-bear, supper!” the shock of the day’s events has worn off and a newfound determination has emerged. He’ll play the role of the weak, sickly child until his mother falls asleep, and then he’s going hunting. With this new mindset, Eddie feebly enters the kitchen, wrapped in a spare blanket he grabbed from the closet, and sniffling exaggeratedly. 

“Oh my sweet boy, sit, sit, eat some soup, but then straight back to bed for you. You need your sleep, and you need your strength,” she babbles as she ladles some hot, flavourless broth into a small bowl. There are thick chunks of undercooked vegetables, and overcooked chicken, but he shoves it down anyways while his mother watches him from across the kitchen. Every bite he takes, she analyzes. When some of the soup drips onto his shirt, she scolds him for eating like a slob. And when he finishes the soup and stands to bring the empty bowl to the sink, she pounces, holding him still with a clammy hand on his right shoulder and placing the back of her other hand on his forehead. 

“Oh dear, Eddie, you’re burning up. Did you take your meds, sweetie, as I told you to? Hm, if this fever of yours keeps up I might have to call the school and have you stay home next week too.”

“Mommy I think I just need some rest. Can I go to sleep, please?” he knows better than to argue right now, and it’s easier for her to sleep when she thinks he’s being obedient. Retracting her plump hand from his face and relinquishing her hold on him, Sonia smiles and says,

“Of course Eddie-bear, you go now, off to bed, but take your pills with some water okay? Tomorrow I’m going to the school to get your homework but I don’t want you worrying about that tonight okay? Okay, Eddie?”

“Yes Mommy,” he replies before swiftly exiting the tense kitchen, rolling his eyes at his mother's antics. It’s been years since the ‘Gazebo’ incident, but her hold on him hasn’t loosened a bit. He’ll take the pills because he knows they’re not adversely affecting him, but it’s times like these with the fake ‘sicknesses’ where she truly exhibits her power. Well, this time, in particular, Eddie brought this on himself, however, in the past, Sonia has come up with some very unique illnesses to keep Eddie from hanging out with the Losers or going on field trips or doing anything that she can’t control. _Let her think that she’s won… for now_. And with that, Eddie waits. Sitting on his bed, staring at his window, hoping vainly that Richie would return. He reflects on his conversation with Bev, the one that Richie overheard, and kicks himself for being so cruel. If he heard Richie say those things about him, he would shut down completely. A world without Richie is a world Eddie doesn’t want any part in. These past few weeks have been brutal without him, the only thing keeping Eddie from running into his arms being his own stubbornness. _Why couldn’t Richie just apologize? Then we wouldn’t be so broken._

He’s flipping through comic books, but not reading them when the TV downstairs shuts off, signalling Sonia’s departure to bed. Luckily, her room is on the bottom floor, so all Eddie has to do is jump from his window to the tree branch, and descend the trunk until he’s free. If he had more time to spare, he’d wait another 30 minutes to ensure Sonia was asleep before leaving, but Richie’s life is on the line, so Eddie throws on a hoodie and some running shoes from his closet before slipping out the window. He leaves his window open a crack for an easy re-entry, and climbs down from the tree stealthily. Reaching the ground, Eddie sets out into the night towards the closest Loser’s house: Bill’s. It’s just one block over, so he’ll be there in no time. Hopefully, Bev made true on her promise of calling the other Losers to maximize their search. The walk would be enjoyable if there wasn’t a pit in his stomach the size of a grapefruit. The air was still warm but with a cool breeze, and the streets were pleasantly silent, only the sounds of television sets from inside passing houses filling up the quiet. Eddie didn’t even realize how fast he was walking until he found himself in the Denbrough’s driveway. One of Bill’s parent’s cars was missing, and Eddie wonders if Bill took it to go look for Richie. Secretly hoping that wasn’t the case due to his desperation to talk to a friend, and not Sharon or Zack, Eddie makes his way up the driveway and to the front door.

He rings the doorbell and listens out for any voices. Finally. he hears some footsteps approaching the door and is relieved when it opens to reveal Bill, dressed in a matching set of silk pyjamas. 

“E-Eddie?” 

“Can I come inside?” he blurts out. He doesn’t mean to be rude, but he’s currently shaking with anxiety.

“Y-yeah Eddie. W-what’s wrong?” Bill asks as Eddie steps inside the Denbrough house.

“Are there any updates?”

“Updates on what?”

“On Richie!” 

“What about Richie?” Eddie can’t believe it. Did Bev not call anyone? Does she want Richie to get hurt? 

“Fuck, Bill. Did Beverly not call you? Richie’s in fucking trouble and we need to find him!”

Bill’s face turns from confusion to guilt in a split second. 

“Oh… um, I h-haven’t been answering the ph-phone.”

“What? And your parents just let it ring?”

“Th-they aren’t home. They’re at a wedding.”

“So why-”

“Oh, hey Eddie!” a familiar voice calls out from behind Bill. 

“Mike?” 

“In the flesh,” he says coolly, strolling up the hallway to meet the two standing in the foyer. Eddie is fucking confused, to say the least. Especially when Mike slings his arm around Bill’s shoulder, and Eddie watches Bill’s face go bright red at the act. 

“I have a lot of fucking questions, but they can wait. We need to find Richie,” Eddie commands.

“E-Eddie, why don’t you c-call Bev. Maybe sh-she found him alright,” Bill offers, and leads him over to his telephone in the kitchen. Eddie rings her aunt and pretends he didn’t see Bill sit on Mike’s lap at the dining room table behind him. 

“Hello? Who is this?” a very tired older woman asks from the other line.

“H-hello, Mrs. Marsh, this is Eddie, I’m one of Bev’s friends. She was expecting a call from me… is she there?” 

“Sorry young man, Beverly hasn’t come home yet, but when she does I can give her a message.”

“That’s okay Mrs. Marsh, sorry to bother you. Have a good night.”

And with that Eddie hangs up and bangs his head against the wall. Then, he dials another number.

“Hello?” a pleasant, feminine voice answers.

“Hi, Mrs. Tozier! It’s Eddie… sorry if I woke you.”

“Eddie! No no, it’s not a problem we were just settling in to watch a movie. I should probably ask since I have you here, is Richie with you? He hasn’t come home from school and he’s in big trouble.”

“N-no Mrs. Tozier, I was actually asking if he was home. I… needed his help with homework. Um, I’ll just go now.”

“Okay Eddie, have a good night, and if Richie shows up at your house tell him the longer he’s out, the longer his punishment!” Maggie jokes and ends the call. God, Eddie loves that woman. But the reality is crashing down on him, Richie didn’t go home and Bev is still looking for him, with no results. Racking his brain for any place Richie could be, he settles on a possibility he truly detests.

“Hey, do either of you know where Stacey lives?” Eddie asks. Mike shakes his head, and Bill shifts uncomfortably in his lap,

“N-no, but I don’t th-think he’s with h-her. He blew her off t-today apparently.” _Oh._

Thinking of all the places Richie frequents, or places that hold significance for him, Eddie has an epiphany. 

“Bill. I need a bike.”  
~~  
Bill is too protective of Silver to let Eddie use her, so instead, Eddie borrows Mike’s. 

“I’m probably staying the night anyway,” he had said with a smirk, making Bill blush again. Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get over their sudden relationship. 

Pedalling through the empty streets of Derry, being extra cautious of storm drains and sewer grates, Eddie makes his way to his destination. He knows somewhere, Bev is riding around with Ben, scouring the streets for any sign of the missing Tozier, and he’s grateful for that. He doesn’t know what Stan is up to, and Bill and Mike offered to come with Eddie, but he refused. So he can’t really be mad at them for not helping. If he finds Richie, however, it’s probably best that they’re alone. They have a lot to discuss. He spies a few red trucks on his way, but none of them is the one. They’re all missing the distinct run-down, beat-up quality that makes it so Richie. 

Gliding out of the suburbs of Derry, Eddie pedals towards the Barrens, feeling even more vulnerable when the houses lining the streets are replaced with dense clusters of trees. He feels like he’s being watched from every angle as he picks up his pace, breaking out into a light sweat. Part of Eddie is embarrassed at how tired he is, and he idly thinks about how he needs to get into better shape in time for track tryouts. But all of this auxiliary crap is flushed out of his brain when his destination comes into view: The Kissing Bridge. And sure enough, at the side of the road, is Richie’s truck, making Eddie sigh deeply with relief. 

Reaching the bridge, Eddie throws down Mike’s bike onto the gravel shoulder and runs up to the driver’s side window. The truck is empty, but Eddie quickly spots Richie, in his leather jacket, of course, sitting on one of the wooden railings along the side of the road, just before the covered bridge. Richie hasn’t looked at Eddie yet, but he knows he’s just behind him. Two weeks' worth of angst and tension between them, but Eddie’s just glad that Richie didn’t hurt himself… that he knows of. So he approaches him tentatively and leans against the wooden railing next to his friend. 

“Hey Rich.”

“Hey Eds.” 

Eddie’s heart breaks at how meek he sounds, even all these hours later, he’s still so torn up, and he can hear the anguish in his voice. It makes Eddie tear up too, and he has to pause to regain his composure.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers. He still can’t bring himself to look at Richie, but luckily for him, Richie can’t look at him either.

“I’m so fucking sorry Eddie,” Richie croaks, and it’s as if a dam bursts because suddenly Richie has hopped off the railing and is wrapping Eddie in his arms in a bone-crunching hug. It hurts, being held like this, but not as much as it hurts to hear Richie wail with his face buried into the shorter boy’s neck, wetting his skin, and his hoodie with his tears. Eddie lets Richie hold him like this, crying, shaking, squeezing. They’re both crying so hard that they’re out of breath, and when they separate, they finally lock eyes. It feels better than taking a puff from his inhaler, looking into Richie’s eyes. He bites his bottom lip to stifle another sob, but he can’t hold back anymore. And now it’s his turn to wail, letting out two weeks' worth of emotion in two minutes. 

“It’s okay… let it out… I’m so sorry Eddie… I’m such an asshole… don’t cry… everything’s alright now…” Richie coos. 

When they’ve both cried out all of their tears, and have caught their breath, Richie plops himself onto the gravel, leaning back against the wood. Eddie repeats his movements, sidling up to his friend, who’s touch and comfort he’s missed so much. When Richie puts his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer, he feels safer than he’s ever felt. 

“Stan says we have a lot to talk about,” Richie whispers.

“He’s right… as per usual.”

“Where do we start?” 

“Well now that apologies are out of the way… why were you so angry with Kyle?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of somebody else touching you,” Richie states matter-of-factly. _Whoa_ , Eddie thinks. He wasn’t expecting that answer.

“Oh,” Eddie replies, not sure how one should respond to a statement like that.

“Eds, I need to know… for my own peace of mind. Did you and Kyle…”

Eddie notices that Richie can’t even finish his sentence, his voice beginning to tremble again.

“God no, Richie. Kyle hasn’t even spoken to me since that day at the clubhouse,” Richie could jump for fucking joy if he wasn’t so comfortable with Eddie glued to his side, “but even if he did want… to have sex… I would’ve said no.”

“I thought you liked him?”

“As a friend. Okay, my turn to ask a question: did you and Stacey… have sex?”

“No. Yes. Well, I don’t know. I ate her out in the back of my truck, so if you call that sex, then yes. But I only did it to make you jealous.”

“Richie, are you…?”

“Gay? No. Not really. But there’s this one guy. He’s the cutest little fucking thing you’ve ever seen. Every time I see him I want to pinch his cheeks and pet his hair. He’s a spitfire too, no really, he’s got the mouth of a sailor… and a mom like a beached whale.”

Eddie laughs, truly laughs, for the first time in two weeks. Not because Richie’s joke was funny, more because he couldn’t believe he was confessing his crush on Eddie and was overcome with giddiness. Eddie angles his face towards Richie’s, having to look up at the much taller boy. Richie’s pale face is stained with dried tear tracks that glisten in the moonlight, but he has the stupidest grin that could light up the darkest night. His lips are chapped, like usual, but they look like the most enticing pair of lips Eddie has ever set his eyes upon. He closes the short distance between them to place his lips on Richie’s, realizing how embarrassingly clueless he is when it comes to kissing. It’s awkward at first, clumsy even, but then the more experienced Richie takes the lead, showing Eddie how enjoyable making out can be. Richie kisses like he’s drowning and the only oxygen he can find is in Eddie’s mouth, lapping it up with his tongue. Craning their necks in their current position, Eddie takes it upon himself to straddle Richie’s lap instead, allowing for easier access for Richie’s tongue. The sensation of his mouth being forcefully claimed is making him hard in his pants, and when Richie’s slender fingers find their way to his waist, Eddie almost passes out from the excitement he feels.

But as quickly as it began, it’s finished, and they pull apart, desperate for air. Eddie’s about to dive right back in to continue devouring Richie’s lips but is suddenly stopped by a large hand being pressed into his chest. _Why is Richie stopping me?_ his singularly focused brain whines.

“Eds, I need to know… if you kiss me again, I won’t be able to let you go. Ever. So you need to tell me if-”

“Richie. I want you. You’re all I want. I promise. Ever since I was twelve… probably before then actually.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Both of us felt this way but neither of us had the balls… fuck.”

“I was scared… I didn’t know how you would take it. Besides, I never thought you were into guys, you were always talking about girls… and doing stuff with them,” Eddie’s voice is laced with jealousy, and he pouts at the thought of Richie fucking anyone but him.

“Eds… how’d you know I would be here?”

“Because right next to your head, you immortalized us,” Eddie says plainly, reaching up at the wooden railing to trace the ‘R + E’ carved into the wood. 

“You knew?”

“Yeah, but I always thought it was a platonic thing. Like BFFs or something. I feel kinda stupid now.”

Eddie tears his eyes away from the railing to look back at his lover, who’s eyes never left his face. He can’t help but smile when Richie looks at him like that, a mix of lust and adoration in his eyes, making his stomach all floaty. Then Richie whips out his Swiss Army Knife, drawing a short gasp from Eddie.

“I came here to cross it out. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” tears are welling up in his eyes again but he continues, “Eddie I can’t fucking stand the thought of being without you. Hearing you say that you didn’t care… and that you were tired of me…”

And he’s crying again, with Eddie in his lap and a knife in his hand. Eddie knows Richie wouldn’t hurt him but for good measure, he plucks the knife out of his grip and tosses it down the road, out of reach. With nothing to hold onto now, Richie wraps his arms around Eddie’s center and pulls him tight, needing the physical contact to ground himself. Knowing that his best friend needs him now more than ever, Eddie carefully extracts his arms from the hold so he can wrap them around Richie’s head. And they sit there, on the side of the road, in the middle of the night, tangled in each other’s arms, soaking in each other’s presence, and having a good cry. 

“Never gonna let you go, Eds,” Richie chokes out between sobs.

“Good. But I’m never gonna wanna leave you Rich.”

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think it's time for some smut. it's been a while...


	6. blissing me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan POV!

If Monday was awkward, and Tuesday was depressing, then Wednesday is just weird. Stan always arrives at school 30 minutes before the bell to go over yesterday’s work in his homeroom. Most of the time is spent in quiet contemplation instead of actual productive reflection, just enjoying the silence before the torrent of students flood the hallways and eventually fill up the empty seats around him. Luckily, his Calculus teacher arrives even earlier than Stan, so her door is always unlocked when he comes in at 8:15 am. After a slew of bad days for the Losers, Stan is really looking forward to his alone time today, but of course, today had to be weird, and as he entered the class, Richie Tozier was sitting right smack in the middle of the room… 30 minutes early. Stan’s eyes dart over to Ms. Martin’s desk, and she has the same expression on her face: shock. Richie, however, has the stupidest, goofiest, infuriating grin. 

“ Hoe-la señorita, como estas?” Richie calls out in his favourite voice of late, ‘The Teenager In First-Year Spanish Who Isn't Trying And Mispronounces Every Word Hilariously’. Stan groans but takes his seat behind Richie anyways. Immediately, Richie spins around in his seat to face his friend, smiling expectantly.

“You’re obviously in a good mood,” Stan states as plain as day.

“You’re obviously not.”

“How observant.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You could turn around and shut your yak for 30 minutes.”

“Mornings really aren’t your thing, huh Stan?”

“If I recall correctly, they aren’t your thing either.”

“Yeah well if you were up as early as I was today, then would you consider this hour as morning?”

“It’s still too early for this Richie,” Stan sighs and plants his face on the cold surface of his desk. Finally, the room falls silent, but Stan can’t even enjoy the quiet when he can feel Richie’s eyes boring into his head from in front of him. When a few minutes pass and Richie hasn’t moved or spoken but is still staring into Stan’s head, he figures something is wrong, so he props his head up with his arm to gaze lazily up at Richie, who is still grinning like a psychopath.

“If you want to tell me something go ahead. You’re acting like a freaking puppy.”

“Nothing happened, I’m just happy to be here, in the same room as Stanley fucking Uris, the legend, the icon, the absolute-”

“Cut the shit Trashmouth. It is _still_ too early. Did Eddie accept you back into his good graces or something?”

Stan regrets bringing up Eddie as soon as he says it and cringes internally when he sees Richie stiffen up at the mention of his name. Richie opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by Ms. Martin asking Stan to run down to the library to make photocopies for her. Richie offers to accompany him but she swiftly denies that request, clearly wanting him under her watchful eye rather than risking him tampering with the class’s upcoming homework. 

Weird Richie encounters are pretty standard to Stan, but when he takes his spot at the table with the rest of the Losers during their lunch period, he can’t help but wonder if they’re hiding something from him. Bev and Ben look like they got no sleep, and thus are abnormally quiet, and Bill and Mike are basically on top of one another when yesterday they could hardly look at each other in the eye. Stan is undeniably jealous. He can’t even look at them without seeing red. When Mike rests his hand on Bill’s upper thigh, it takes every ounce of strength he can muster to stop himself from prying it off and making a scene in the middle of the cafeteria. He wants to be the one to make Bill feel safe, he wants to be the one to make him smile, laugh, cum, cry. He’s gotten a taste for it, and now he needs to satisfy his addiction. But fucking Mike. The two of them had invited him over to Bill’s last night, but Stan had declined, making up some excuse about his cousins from out of town visiting. _Did they fuck last night?_ he thinks as Bill laughs at something Mike says. Stan barely registers that Stacy had approached their table and is asking for Richie’s whereabouts. Bev sends her away with a polite ‘we don’t know’. Richie disappearing from school is not weird, it’s the only thing normal about today. So Stacy stalks away, sullenly. 

“Richie was at school early today. Like real early.”

Bev and Ben share a look… _they always do that when they know something_. But they don’t say anything. Neither does Bill or Mike, but they’re too busy playing an indiscreet game of footsies under the table.

“Have any of you talked to him?” Stan tries again.

“Yeah. Just briefly last night. He and Eddie spoke, and I guess they’re okay now,” Ben relents.

“Oh, thank Christ. That was a fucking saga I never want to revisit,” Stan starts, “and it explains why he was so happy this morning. So is Eddie coming to movie night then?”

Bev perks up,

“Stan you should call Eddie after school and ask him. Since you’re the only one who Sonia would let Eddie talk to.”

With a sense of normalcy returned to the Losers, with Richie and Eddie being friends again, they quickly fall into a hole of discussing what movies are on the roster for Friday night. Nightmare on Elm Street was unanimously chosen as the first, but when it came down to Friday the 13th or Pet Sematary for the second viewing option, opinions were split. Bev voted for Pet Sematary because she’s never seen it, and Ben agrees with her, as he does with every topic. Mike wants Friday the 13th because he has a cat, and doesn’t want to look at her in a different light, but Bill hates cats and wants Pet Sematary to prove to everyone that felines are evil. Stan reserves his opinion, leaving his friends in suspense as the lunch bell rings, resulting in a tie until Friday. But as they start going their separate ways, Stan thinks to himself that he’ll vote for Pet Sematary solely for Bill’s satisfaction. He’s still at the table, stuffing his empty lunchbox into his bag when Bill taps his shoulder.

“S-Stan… this is f-for you. If you want. T-tonight at the c-clubhouse,” and he’s gone. Speed-walking out of the cafeteria, leaving Stan with a torn piece of folded lined paper in his hand. Unfolding it carefully he reads the content of the note:

_The three of us need to talk. 8 pm, clubhouse, tell no one. – B + M_

~~

The first thing Stan did when he got home was ringing up Eddie. 

“Hello?” the menacing voice of Sonia Kaspbrak answers.

“Hi Mrs. Kaspbrak, it’s Stanley Uris calling.”

“Oh yes. I suppose you’re wanting to talk to Eddie, but I’m afraid he’s sleeping at the moment. He’s fighting a terrible fever, and I-” Stan can hear a faint voice in the background, Eddie, scolding his mother. Obviously not asleep, Stan listens as Eddie fights his way to get onto the phone.

“Just 5 minutes Mommy, then I’ll go back to bed, I promise… jeez Louise,” Eddie adds under his breath, “Hey Stan, what’s up?”

“I heard you and Richie made up last night.”

Stan hears a loud gulp over the phone.

“You heard what?”

“That you and Richie made up. Like you resolved your issues and all that.”

“Oh! Sorry, I really misheard you for a second. But yeah, we… worked out everything.”

“Good, good… so we’re all wondering if you’re coming to movie night still? Unless you’re still sick which I totally understand, I mean, you gotta take care of your health and everything,” Stan jokes, getting a quiet laugh out of his friend from the other end of the line.

“Um, I think I can work something out. I have another day to ‘recover’ and come up with something. So yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Okay! I’ll tell Bev. Feel better,” Stan bids farewell and hangs up the phone. It’s only 4 pm, meaning he has 4 hours to prepare for whatever Bill and Mike have in store for him tonight at the clubhouse. He could always ignore the summoning and stay home, but part of him is excited at the prospect of being propositioned by them. Another part of him is terrified as well. Feeling uneasy, Stan retreats to his room and throws himself onto his bed. The same bed where he had Bill writhing and moaning his name only a few days ago. He hasn’t washed his sheets yet, revelling in the faint scent of Bill that still lingers when he slips under the thick comforter each night. Feeling tired, as he usually does after school, Stan gives in to his impulses and tucks himself into bed, _I’ll just take a short nap_ he thinks. With his eyes shut, his imagination runs rampant. He imagines Bill curled up into his body, and Stan can almost feel how warm he would be. He pulls a pillow into his arms and pretends it’s Bill, holding it tightly against him. 

Now that he’s thinking about Bill, his horny teenaged brain starts conjuring up memories… and pictures. It doesn’t take long before Stan is very hard and he’s begun rocking his hips gently into the pillow. The stimulation isn’t enough, so Stan reaches his hand under the covers and slides his pants and underwear down to his knees, releasing his member. Pulling the same hand back up to his mouth, he spits into the palm and quickly wraps it around the base of his cock, careful not to let any of the spit run off his hand. The relief is almost instantaneous, and he moans at how _good_ it feels. Stan is typically not one for masturbation. He’d only ever done it twice before, and while they were enjoyable experiences, he never really had access to any… material. He didn’t have a ‘spank bank’ as he’s sure Richie would so eloquently put it. But now he does. Thinking of Bill’s body, having each centimetre of skin memorized and having his moans playing on repeat in his brain amplifies the sensations. He’s hardly done anything but lube up his cock with his spit and Stan’s almost ready to bust. Lying on his back now, Stan throws off his comforter, exposing his half-naked self to the cold air. Bill, Bill, Bill is on his mind. His touch, his mouth, his cock, his tight heat. How his cock feels when its buried inside of him. Then his brain surprises him when it produces an image of Stan fucking Bill, while Mike watches, jerking off at the scene in front of him. Stan quickly dismisses the image, but when he cums less than a minute later, it’s to that same image.

Feeling more than a little confused with himself, Stan finally opens his eyes and takes in the mess he’s made. His lean torso is patterned with streams of cum, some of it pooling in his belly button. He groans when he sees that some of his cum had stained the sheets, irritated that he’ll be forced to wash them now, and wash away Bill’s scent as well. Reaching over to his bedside table and grabbing a handful of Kleenex, he begins sopping up the sticky mess. He should shower away any residue, but he’s really overcome with fatigue now, and he decides he’ll have plenty of time before he has to leave anyways. With his mind made up and the evidence of his sinful pleasure cleaned up, Stan turns onto his side and scoops up the pillow again into his warm embrace. Then, an idea pops into his sleepy mind. Lazily crawling out of the bed, Stan opens his closet door and reaches for the spare pillows he keeps on the top shelf, in case his friends need one. Taking the extra pillow, Stan eagerly slips into his former position, with a pillow held snugly in his arms, but this time, with the added pillow propped up behind him, sandwiching him in between them. He feels so… safe. At ease. The pillows are slightly chilled to the touch, and Stan wishes he had warm bodies to take their place instead, but he falls asleep just the same.

~~

It’s 8:01 pm when Stan reaches the clubhouse. He didn’t mean to be late, but he had overindulged in his nap and woke up with less time than anticipated. So he took a quick, yet very, very thorough shower, threw one some khaki shorts and the polo he wore to school, and was out the door, without much of a word to his parents other than ‘I’ll be back’. Each step he took towards the clubhouse widened the pit in his stomach. When he finally reached the clubhouse door, he was sure he was going to implode with the building pressure inside of him. Taking a deep breath, he bends down to swing open the hatch. It’s pitch black inside. _Great, I’m the first one here_ , he huffs as he lands on the dirt floor of the clubhouse. Not expecting to be first, Stan did not bring a flashlight, so he had to feel around in the dark for the dangling cord connected to the solitary lightbulb in the middle of the room. A few seconds of aimless wandering, and it lightly brushes across his face. He grasps it between his fingers and yanks it. With a meagre light source providing a touch of visibility, Stan makes the rounds and starts turning on the portable, battery-powered lights around the outskirts of the clubhouse. They’re mostly covered in dust as the Losers rarely come down here at night, but they do come in useful for occasions like this. Now with the space lit up, Stan settles himself down on the shoddy loveseat and waits, cursing himself for being so punctual when he knows none of his friends are. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been waiting for when he hears the faint crunching of leaves overhead. His best guess? Probably 10 minutes. His heart is pounding out of his chest when the hatch is thrown open and a long pair of legs descend the ladder, followed by a torso, and then a beautiful head of auburn hair. 

“Hey Bill!” Stan says a little too eagerly, shooting up from the couch. Bill turns to face him and flashes a toothy smile before responding,

“Hi Stan.” 

Mike drops down next, bypassing the ladder just as Stan did. 

“Mike.”

“Hey Stan.”

The three of them fall silent. Mike is staring at Stan, Stan is staring at Bill, and Bill is staring at a spot on the wall to avoid the mounting tension between them. Caught at an impasse, it’s Mike who finally breaks the silence.

“Do you want to fuck Bill again, Stan?” he says with an impressively casual voice that startles Stan. Bill turns a flaming red at the words and begins fidgeting his hands nervously.

“Um… uh. That’s direct,” Stan says lamely. 

“It’s a simple question, Stanley. And even though I think we all know the answer, I think he’d like to hear you say it,” Mike says, gesturing over at Bill who is breathing very heavily.

“Look… I respect whatever is going on between you two, really. I support your relationship. I don’t want to come in between the happiness you’ve found-”

“Stan stop!” Bill finally croaks, “do you want to fuck me again or not?” 

He sounds wounded… as if he was shot in the stomach and was pleading for his life. The amount of emotion in his voice shocks Stan into speechlessness. So instead of answering verbally, he merely nods. 

“Then do it,” Mike says, gently pushing Bill towards Stan and taking a step back. 

“Wha-what?” Stan stutters.

“It’s okay Stan. I want you real b-bad. Haven’t st-stopped thinking about you,” Bill murmurs as he closes the distance, grabbing Stan’s shaking hands and stroking the backs of them with his thumbs. Without glancing at Mike for further approval, Stan crashes his lips against Bill’s, wondering if this is how junkies feel when they get their fix. This is his addiction; Bill is his drug. However, if Stan’s hungry for this, then Bill must be ravenous, as he thrusts his hands up Stan’s polo to run his hands all over his body. Stan breaks the kiss to remove the shirt and is surprised to find that Bill has completely disrobed down to his painfully tight briefs in the split-second where his polo blocked his vision as it was shucked off. Following suit, Stan kicks off his shoes and shorts. Before Bill can throw himself at Stan, however, the rational part of Stan’s brain brings up the sobering fact that they’re about to have sex in a dirty cave, essentially. 

“We can’t have sex on the floor, it’s covered in dirt. And the couch isn’t any better, there were bugs in it,” Stan pants.

“Silly Stan, you’re not the only one who thought of that,” Mike chimes in from his position on the hammock, clambering out to walk over to the ladder where Stan only now realizes has a bundle of blankets resting at the bottom. He must’ve been too focused on Bill to notice Mike bring them down, and Stan flushes in embarrassment. Bill turns to join Mike in laying out the blankets, making sure that they are layered thickly enough that they won’t be able to feel the uneven surface of the dirt floor, and that the space is wide enough to fit comfortably. When the process is finished, Bill plops down onto the freshly woven tapestry, seductively curling up into an enticing position, staring up at Stan through his eyelashes. Mike has fallen back again to the hammock, palming his clothed cock at the scene about to unfold in front of his eyes. 

“C’mon S-Stan. I’m so empty,” is all it takes for Stan to pounce. He tears off his own underwear before he does the same to the white briefs keeping him from seeing all of Bill’s perfect body, leaving the boy naked and hard as a fucking rock. Stan notices how wet he already is, a trail of precum leaking from the head, about to drip onto the blankets. Greedily, he laps up the salty fluid, drawing out a beautiful gasp from Bill as he finally receives the touch he so desires. Feeling bold, Stan takes the entirety of Bill’s length into his mouth, holding it there, running his tongue all over it, getting it even wetter with his spit. When he lets it go from his mouth’s warm hold, Bill giggles. 

“What’s so funny, Billy?” Stan coyly whispers. Giggling even louder at the affectionate nickname, Bill responds,

“I’m n-not laughing cuz it’s funny. Jus’ f-feels good S-Stan.”

“Yeah? How about you return the favour, Billy. Make me feel good, and I’ll fuck you so good after, I promise you,” Stan coos. Leaning back on his arms behind his back, Stan watches Bill scramble to reposition himself so he’s laying on his stomach, but using Stan’s thighs to keep himself propped up and at eye-level with his aching cock. He’s not sure if Bill’s ever done this before, so he gives him some needed encouragement.

“You don’t have to take it all to make me feel good, baby. You can just play with it. Do whatever you want to do Billy.”

And with that, he rapidly starts licking at the stiff cock as if it were a lollipop. Quick licks all over the head, shaft, and base, sometimes Stan’s balls too. The innocent curiosity of Bill Denbrough discovering how to suck cock is almost enough to make Stan cum on spot. Especially when he looks up and sees Mike, with his pants and underwear pulled down to his ankles, jerking his intimidatingly large cock in the swaying hammock. This is all too similar to the image Stan had cum to merely a few hours ago, and he has to push Bill off his cock before he prematurely ejaculates. 

“W-was it not good?” Bill mutters. 

“No! No it was so good baby, I was gonna cum. You were gonna make me cum but I made a promise, didn’t I?” 

The excitement on Bill’s face when he realizes he’s about to get his hole stuffed lights up the room. He’s practically vibrating as they prepare each other for penetration; Bill sliding a condom over Stan’s cock, and Stan fingering him open with lube-slicked fingers. Finally, they’re ready, and Stan sinks into Bill’s heat for the second time this week. They both moan in pleasure when he bottoms out, but Bill is already squirming looking for more stimulation. 

“He’s a greedy little slut, isn’t he?” Mike calls out, rising from the hammock. Bill whimpers in response, trying to sink further, take more cock into his hole even though there isn’t more to take. 

“Even when I was fucking him last night, he couldn’t stop moaning for you, Stan. So greedy, he needs both of us to satisfy him. What do you say, Stanley? Will you be with us? Be a part of us?”

He can’t even fathom the fact that Mike is deciding to lay this question on him _now_ when he’s balls deep in Bill. But even while he can hardly think straight with the intense high he’s feeling, Stan thinks he’s known the answer to this question for a while now… he’s just been too scared to say it out loud.

“Yes, yes, yes. Want you Bill… want you bad. Need you too Mike,” Stan gasps, starting to fuck into Bill in earnest now. Mike leans down over Bill’s writing body and pulls Stan into a crushing kiss as he continues to pound Bill’s ass. Ever the attention seeker, Bill starts to whine when Stan’s pace begins to waver, too wrapped up in his kiss with Mike. 

“Told you he’s a greedy slut. Needs so much attention our boy,” Mike laughs. He pulls away from the tangle of limbs so Stan can refocus on pleasing Bill by resuming their fucking at full force. He’s about to look up to retain eye contact with Mike when he feels a warm presence behind him and an even warmer, wet mouth latching onto his ear. 

“You ever touched yourself down here Stan?” Mike asks, laving his ear with his mouth and using his middle finger to prod at Stan’s hole. 

“Y-yeah,” is all Stan can manage to get out as Bill is already clawing at his chest, tugging on his nipples to get his attention again. Mike chuckles and removes his finger, only for it to return mere seconds later, but covered in lube. Knowing where this is going, Stan prepares for the sensation of a finger entering his tight hole but still gasps at the intrusion just the same. Mike doesn’t even have to move his finger, just holds it there as Stan fucks into Bill, fucking himself onto the finger in the process. Soon Mike adds another finger… then another. And by the time Stan is about to cum, he’s so full of Mike’s fingers, he can’t think.

Then, in a cruel move, Mike takes his fingers out of Stan’s hole all at once. Stan never thought he’d be one to whimper and whine during sex, but that’s exactly how he responds. He doesn’t have to wait much longer before Mike shifts behind him and with a quick thrust, Mike’s cock finds itself buried into Stan’s virgin hole, ripping an actual scream from Stan’s throat as he cums violently into the condom, still inside of Bill. Not able to pull out with Mike’s body behind him holding him in place, all he can do is sit there, wedged in between his two lovers as Mike fucks him through his orgasm, gentle at first, but gradually picking up his pace as he chases after his own orgasm. Bill cums when he sees the expression on Stan’s face: a mix of surprise, lust, bliss, and pure _ecstacy_. The clenching of Bill’s hole around Stan’s trapped cock, combined with the slightly painful pounding he’s receiving from Mike is too much for anyone to experience at once, and Stan is about to cry out for them to stop due to his oversensitivity.

Luckily, Mike is already pulling out, and Stan does the same, disconnecting the three of them. Stan can’t do much as he’s instantly being manhandled by Mike into laying flat next to Bill on the blankets. Staring up at Mike, who is standing over the two boys, they watch as he tosses the condom off to the side and jerks his cock with a ferocity they’ve never quite seen.

“Gonna cum for my boys. Gonna fucking cum,” he cries. And he certainly does… a lot. Bill is moaning again as the hot ropes of cum splash over his chest and face, while Stan just silently appreciates how much is coming out of Mike’s impressive cock. When it’s finally over, Mike plops down on the blankets next to Stan with a groan. 

“My parents are probably expecting me home soon,” Stan whispers. But he doesn’t want to leave, not while he’s so comfortably surrounded by his newfound lovers. He wants to fall asleep with them, wake up next to them, only ever have sex with them. They’re all he needs.

“Fuck ‘em,” says Mike.

“Yeah, I k-kinda w-wanna go again,” Bill admits sheepishly. 

“That’s our boy,” Mike laughs. Stan joins him, and soon enough all three of them are all laughing hysterically. Some of the lights around the clubhouse have gone out, batteries needing to be replaced. Here they are, three best friends turned lovers, in a cold, dark, damp, underground room in the middle of the forest at night. Vulnerable and exposed. But it's the first time Stan has felt truly safe since 1989. 

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 2am where i live, and i just finished editing this lol, pls ignore any mistakes i am so tired
> 
> i have the next few chapters sorted out but if anyone has any requests for situations or anything i will definitely consider them!


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